Honeymoon
by Lithiumia
Summary: Bella runs away from home and meets a criminal. He takes her to his world of gambling and dealing. But when her life goes on the downward spiral, she is torn between morality and love.
1. The Beginning

There are no boundaries for love. Love is one of the broadest words in the English lexicon. Though in Greek, love expands into six different concepts.

Agape, Ludus, Philia, Philautia, Pragma, and Eros..

Simply put, Agape loves the world. Ludus, the kind, witty stranger from the bar. Phila, shows true loyalty. Pragma, the unconditional. Philautia, what you need before Pragma. And Eros, the master of desire, whom consumes one's integrity.

"You're fucking crazy."

It was a mere insult to her. She heard it at least 10 times a day, most of it came from myself and the rest from the people in town.

Running away took an awful amount of guts. The urge had lingered in her mind for God knows how long. She knew this day, the final straw, would come.

The day was blistering hot. Sizzling rays of sunlight baked on the hills of Arizona. It was the end of June, not long after high school graduation. The walls of the rusted Toyota cooked her like an oven. Beads of sweat were dripping from her forehead.

She only down to two options now–be found dead in this vehicle or get killed out there.

I have no knowledge of my whereabouts. All I know, I am far from home–miles away from Phoenix. When I left my city, screaming and filthy, I pumped the pedal until every drop of gas had been burned. The possibilities of anyone finding me now is highly unlikely, for the better.

Now, stranded on a deserted road, melted by the summer heat, it is clear no one can save me even if I wanted. A feeble smile of victory splashes on my chapped lips. This road is my fate, I halfheartedly mumble to myself, climbing out of the vehicle. At this point I wouldn't give two shits if my knees go weak and fall hard onto the concrete. I desperately feel the need to pass out and be dead for good.

I keep going on the road, though. Not with the beat-up wheels, but my frail legs. The blinding sunlight makes me squint until blurry shapes appear, taunting my poor vision and weakened state. Where I'm heading to is out of the question. It is evident that I am committing suicide at this point, stumbling among an empty road, hungry, terrified and mentally unstable. Images of my mother and father searching for their missing daughter flashes into my mind as I blindly stumble in the heat. Everything is killing me inside out, slowly and miserably.

The walk is unpleasant and lengthy, but I soon find myself at a diner stop. It is a heavenly sight to see something at last–no more boiled cracked concrete and dried, flaxen fields. "Too late to turn back now," I utter to myself with a dead tone, scanning the lot. Two old cars and a motorcycle are parked at the front. It's too early for a lousy crowd, it seems.

A grumbling noise startles me, kicking my spine on the line. I glance down, recognising the horrid sound coming from my empty stomach. Shit. I hold the flat pit of my abdomen with one hand and elbow the door with the other. I unsteadily enter the restaurant, stunned by what I see.

This place is nowhere near as a decent eatery but realistically, any diner on the road becomes impaired overtime. Even the disgustingly greasy, fried smell of the cuisine relieve me.

The room is displeasingly small, but large enough for a starving girl and 5 other customers. I slide myself to the nearest table and pick up the sticky menu, not having to bother my surroundings. I swear my body is going to shut down any moment if my needs stay unfulfilled for the next round of the clock. It doesn't matter if I'm suicidal, the idea of slowly dying from hunger sickens me.

I stuff 5, 10, 20 strips of fried potatoes and a hamburger until the churning of my stomach starts ceasing. The whole process is a blur–and for God's sake, it is repulsive. I don't tolerate fast food. But once my energy has regained, in my mind, running away no longer feel so remorseful. One day I will get where I belong, I repeatedly reassure myself.

"You're a dollar short, kid."

I slide my hands back into my pockets and pick up the same two cents. The rust on the coins wink at me. A gulp of dismay presses against my throat–my plan was going so well!

"That's all I have." the waiter grunts and roars in rage. "It's just a fucking dollar."

My eyelids shuts tight and I instantly regret my words. It's ignorant of this man to take such a small amount of money so severely. Who does he think he is? He's definitely digging for trouble.

"I'll take care of this."

An appealing, smooth voice projects across the room, seizing everyone's attention. My hollow brown eyes pop open again to see the mystery man letting me loose. He's making his way towards my table. The sight of an outsider is alarming, but I keep my observations. The way he strolls is confident, graceful with a pinch of carelessness. Well-built, leather jacket and boots, I am dumbfounded by this mystery man. The closer he's getting, the faster my heart is pounding. Oddly, there's a strong dose of attraction washing over my weak body.

The grumpy waiter says nothing and wanders back behind the counters, displeased by my saving. I blink several times as the man proudly stands front of me, hovering over the table. I can clearly see his face now. Fortunately, it isn't a disappointment.

"Running away?" he places down a crumpled banknote. His tone is strong but tender. I narrow my eyes, trying to figure out if he's playing with me.

I timidly swallow the lump in my throat. There's difficulty fixing eye contact with him. The strange wisdom he possesses is startles. "How'd you–"

"Go home, girl. There's nothing out here for you."

"It's honestly none of your business."

The man curves the heels of his boots and heads for the door. Disappointment rises on his face as he shakes his head, exiting the diner.

I cave.

Wait! I spring up from my chair and chase after him, mumbling under my breath for him to stop. The old door swings abruptly behind me as I push my way out of the stuffy building. "Hey!"

He stops and turns from his bike to face his desperate caller. I study him, watching his steel blue eyes squint into folds, trying to make out my form in the sunlight. I'm standing a few feet away with my right leg forward. He twists his eyebrows in confusion.

"Where are you heading to?" I ask in a small voice.

The man with the leather jacket just scoffs at my question. Ignoring me, he picks up his glimmering black helmet and easily fits it on his blond head.

I eye the second helmet and quickly snatch it from the seat. Not a twitch of reaction appears on his face. Hmph. He's simply allowing his words to do the dirty work.

"You aren't supposed to be out here." he climbs up on his vehicle and starts the rough engine.

I clasp the helmet onto my head before following his motives, mounting behind him. Reckless. The devil is on my shoulder, applauding me.

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere where no one knows your name."

I huff at his reply. I've been convinced I was living in a town like that my entire life. Just fucking wasteful.

He twists his palms around the handles and boosts the engine twice. Tick, tick.

"Ready?" he asks, leaning his head over.

I shoot him a bright smile, nodding in certainty.

There's a growing rumble underneath my seat. I pull my arms around the stranger's waist and starts holding on tight. My moral old soul has left my body at this point, and so has the angel on my shoulder.

"You're fucking crazy."

My eyes squeeze tight as a new beginning awaits.

"I know."


	2. Death Talk

Hey guys. I changed this story to present tense, first person for more intimate approach. Hope you're liking the mood of this AU fic so far!

* * *

 _Chapter 2_

We ride for nearly two hours nonstop. Dusk is already approaching from the horizon and the rusty streetlights are buzzing. He parks his motorcycle at an old motel. I spin around to observe my surroundings; a white L shaped building with a large green neon motel sign flashing before us. Only 5 or 6 cars are parked at the lot, making this place appear deserted and quiet. I can only hear the grumbles of the air conditioning unit and the infrequent cars passing by on the street. I mumble about how far we went and he says the road goes to downtown.

I shudder as I hop off his bike, quickly taking off the bulky helmet. Fuck. The sides of my head are sore from wearing it for so long. A tiring groan escapes from my lips and he immediately turns around to narrow his eyes at me in irritation.

"Sorry, I didn't expect that ride to be so long..."

The stranger doesn't reply but he motions me to follow him to the 7-Eleven by the motel. He lets the door free before I can catch up, hitting me on the side. A loud thump at the entrance is heard but he continues his journey to find what ever the fuck he is buying. I go on my own separate aisle to avoid him. I don't know what his problem is; maybe he is pissed off because of me or that's just his personality. I calmly walk to the fridges without turning back to him. Bottles and bottles of pop and water wink at me as I stare into the frosted glass, tongue itching with thirst. If only I snatched all my bank savings before running away, I wouldn't have to struggle with my basic needs and rely on a pissed off stranger who might actually abandon me at any moment, leaving me to starve.

I don't know what I'm doing, where I'm at and who I'm with. I might die, that's one thing I'm sure of. There isn't much faith left in my life anymore. As people like to say, what happens, happens.

"Been ridin' round town again, Demetri?"

My ears puff out to listen to the clerk speaking to him. Demetri, huh? That's his name. At least if he doesn't abandon or kill me, I'd know what to call him. I don't think I want an awkward introduction between us anyway. Hi, what's your name? Oh, my name is Bella Swan. Nice knowing you. No.

"For the summer only. I have it all planned out."

"Ah, I see..."

I hear the door swing open again and I see him walking out with two packs of cigarettes. I'm not sure if he has finally decided to leave me but I follow him out anyway to push the possibilities. He goes up on the motel's exterior stairs with his key playfully spinning around his finger. I hesitatingly want to speak up to let him know I'm following behind but he seems to be a lot wiser than I am and he looks like the type to play mind games. I shouldn't be messing with him if I truly desire some shelter tonight.

Demetri stops at a door and quietly unlocks it with a quick turn of the key. I watch him step inside, leaving the door wide open without a word. I instantly assume its for me so I proceed and silently shut the creaking door behind me.

I'm afraid to turn around and see him standing there with knife, ready to attack but I remind myself that's a ridiculous thought after all we been through today. He could've strangled me in the middle of the highway but he didn't. Why did he pay for me and gave me a lift? Why am I still alive, alone with a stranger? Those questions provoke my aching curiosity.

"Hey..." I say as I slowly turn myself around to face the room.

He's on the couch lighting a cigarette he just bought. It's extremely dim from the lack of ceiling lights and I can hardly see his face but I can catch his steel blue eyes staring at right me from the small flicker of flame.

"What's your plan for the summer?" I flatly ask, recalling his small conversation with the clerk downstairs. What does this guy even do besides picking up random girls at diners?

"What's _your_ plan?" he shifts the question around, going back to my runaway situation. I gulp because I don't have an answer for him.

I honestly don't know what my plan or future is anymore.

He eyes me with pity as he blows thick grey smoke into the musky room, making the corner of my lips turn downward in disgust. Guess he doesn't care about dying, either. That's my current state. I watch his fingers dig into the Marlboro box, pulling out a new one. At first I thought he was trying to be edgy by lighting two at a time but turns out the cig is for me. Before I can say no, he rises from the couch and walks towards me, swaying the lethal cylinder towards my closed hand. Instead, I take a good close look at his face, identifying the details and structure. He may be older but he's definitely qualified as a handsome guy. His face is clear of blemishes with only a bit of aging on the smile crease. And he's clean and tidy, something I did not expect at first. He's also got a light blond stubble running across his bold jawline and a noticeable dent scar on his forehead.

"You willingly got on a stranger's bike. And you won't take this smoke?" he questions me, raising a brow.

He's right...in some way. Smoking is a different type of commitment to death; burning your lungs black. Not adrenaline rush across the highway with a total stranger. You could always die from those and that's probably what he's trying to compare. But...not really.

"I hate the smell of tobacco smoke." I quickly blurt out, glancing up at him.

He sighs and returns his offer back into the box. I hope that didn't offend him. I'm still determined to know how long I'll survive with him before he loses it and shoots me in the back of my head. Then, a stale fog of smoke starts smothering my nostrils. I cough out, fanning my hands in the air as step back away from him. He blew it right in my face so I can flip out a coughing fit. Of course, second-hand smoking is another way to lean closer to death. Why haven't I thought of that! Smart guy.

"So, Demetri, right?" I start off cooly as if he didn't just blow disgusting smoke all over my face, "What do you plan on doing with me? As far as I'm concerned, I'm still alive and breathing in this motel room."

He slaps the cigarette box onto the nightstand before turning to face me with a wide grin. I can't identify whether he's being sadistic or amused. Possibly both.

"You're not afraid to die." he asserts with confidence, eyeing my body up and down. It sends me tiny shivers down my spine. "I saw the fearless look in your eyes when you got on my motorcycle without any reluctance."

"Get to the damn point."

He raises his eyebrow at me, probably surprised of how committed I am to answers.

"I don't take away lives that's already been taken. It's your choice now if you want to remain physically alive out here."

I'm stunned. Speechless at his words. He looks right through me. He thinks I'm fascinating. He knows I'm dead inside and he's willing to keep me alive.

I know this sounds crazy, _insane_ and suicidal, but there is something deafening inside my mind, telling me to trust my life in his hands. A stranger's hands. The only person in the world right now who could give me a new life, starting from my internal death.

"Please–" I stutter, giving him a helpless look, "let me stay with you. I will do what it takes to pay you back as long as you keep me alive."

The words sound unbelievably desperate. Alive seems so far out of reach from my level. But he doesn't laugh or smirk in vain at my words, he simply nods and says,

"Deal."


End file.
